


redamancy

by interstellar (katarasvevo)



Category: In a Heartbeat (Short Film)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-15 01:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11795463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarasvevo/pseuds/interstellar
Summary: Sherwin falls for the ocean-eyed boy in five different ways.





	redamancy

**Author's Note:**

> **redamancy**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> (n.) the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full

**i. ocean eyes**

 

Sherwin is twelve when the ocean-eyed boy graces his class. His arrival births a strange, foreign warmth in his chest, the kind that thrives like a garden of unchecked weeds. At first, he panics whenever his heart skips a beat in Jonathan's presence, and his legs turn into jelly, because it can't be what he thinks it is—it just can't. He's only a boy, much too young to like anyone in a more-than-friends kind of way. Kids his age shouldn't be preoccupied with the matters of the heart—it's foreign territory he has no business exploring.

Confusion is what it is, Sherwin tells himself firmly; boys aren't supposed to like other boys. If anything, it's possible that he feels something for Mariko instead, the willowy girl with lily-white hands and cherry petals for lips. She's always mooning over Jonathan, giving him shy gazes and soft touches. Maybe he's just torn over the idea of Mariko liking Jonathan and not him. That has to be the case.

Sherwin spends a few weeks wrestling with his heart's erratic behaviour, hoping that it will soon come to pass. Lots of things fade with time, and this one shouldn't be an exception—only it is, which he figures out the hard way. Fear sinks in when the feelings intensify, showing no signs of abating. This is all wrong. He's not supposed to experience a fluttering in his stomach whenever Jonathan looks at him, nor is he supposed to look forward to it.

_Why does he?_

In the end, it is Mariko who inadvertently makes him arrive at a gut-twisting realization. It takes place during a warm spring afternoon, among a gilded sprawl of glistening blooms. The whole class is out on a field trip, the teacher guiding them through a sleepy, mountainside reserve. _Look, a bluebird! See that bubbling brook? Carlos, don't disturb the deer_. _Not again, Roshar._ Most of her words don't register in Sherwin's mind, because it's kind of hard to concentrate when both Mariko and Jonathan are standing in front of him, deep in conversation.

His blood warms at the sight, and his stomach clenches, and a faraway voice shouts out " _Look at me instead_ " across an imaginary chasm, and he wants to bury himself into the ground— _god, why does this have to be so difficult?_

The thoughts swarm in his head like buzzing bees, drowning out most sounds and narrowing down his focus to the twiggy ground that he nearly bumps into Mariko. Luckily, a hand grabs at the back of his shirt, steadying him.

"Better watch where you're going," the class president, Elias, warns him good-naturedly. "You could've been hurt." He glances around at their fellow classmates, who have stopped as per the teacher's instruction.

Sherwin nods meekly, embarrassed. Elias claps him on the shoulder before jogging over to the teacher's side.  A few metres away, Mariko mumbles something to Jonathan, and then they both halt, knee-high grass tickling their legs. Sherwin tries to shuffle away, but Mariko approaches him and asks, "Hey, Sherwin, mind if you hold this?" A paint-splotched satchel rests on her hands.

Sherwin blinks. "Uh, sure," he says, taking the bag off her hands.

Mariko fishes out her camera and flashes him a thumbs up. "Perfect," she says, turning back to Jonathan. "Hey, move back a little or I won't get a good shot of you." She walks a distance away and kneels on the ground, lifting the camera to her line of sight.

Sherwin's gaze falls onto Jonathan.

In movies, it's common for dramatic scenes to pan out in slow-motion, showing a close-up of the person of interest's face, and it's exactly what happens in this moment. Sunlight washes over Jonathan, illuminating his raven-black hair and ocean eyes—those deep, blue ocean eyes that bring to mind calm waters, crushed sapphires, depthless pools, warm summer days. Time unfolds a little differently, each second drawn out to near-infinity.

The realization strikes Sherwin with the subtlety of melting glaciers—slow but sure. And when their gazes meet, it hammers home the feeling, etching it onto his heart. The sun burns high and hot, the heat dulling most of his other senses save for his sight, which is clearer than it's ever been.

Jonathan's eyes are easy to get lost into. The spell doesn't break even when Jonathan looks away, and Sherwin absently presses his hand against his sternum, heart thudding a mad rhythm on his chest. He can no longer ignore the fact that he has does have a crush the size of the moon and all its nearby stars put together.

"Oh," he whispers to himself, a mild breeze swallowing up the word.

He likes Jonathan, not Mariko. It has always been Jonathan, not Mariko or any other girl.

He has truly fallen for the ocean-eyed boy.

His heart sighs.

 

* * *

  **ii.** **ha** **nds**

 

It doesn't take long before the emotion swells to the width of Jupiter.

Spring slowly bleeds into bright summer, and Jonathan experiences a surge of popularity. Now, it's not only Mariko who fawns over him but a whole army of girls. The whole thing is utterly unsurprising; perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect eyes, Jonathan is the most handsome boy he's ever seen. Intelligent, too—he has one of the highest grades in their year, despite coming in late. Best of all, he's kind. He's always so impossibly nice, greeting everyone with a radiant smile, holding doors when necessary, offering to help out teachers. It's no wonder people are drawn to him like moths to flame, like tides to a shoreline. Jonathan just has that _attractive_ quality, capable of pulling anyone to his sphere.

And it hurts.

It hurts because he has to keep his heart under lock and key, festering in the thrall of his ribcage. It hurts because he doesn't stand a chance. It hurts because every time he looks Jonathan in the eye he dissolves into a stuttering, blushing mess. It hurts because he likes someone who just so happens to be a boy and out of his league. It hurts because he's scared of what his parents, his friends, the world will think of him.

It hurts.

Sherwin hasn't even had a proper conversation with Jonathan. If they can't ever be more, at least they could be friends—but Sherwin has yet to muster enough courage for that attempt. Every time he contemplates trying, his mind brings up a thousand different ways those interactions could go horribly wrong, all of them resulting in Jonathan disliking him.

Consequently, the school year comes to a fruitless close, and Sherwin spends his holidays with a nagging feeling looming over his head like a pesky cloud. No amount of wishing manages to disperse it, so he lets it stew into a tangle of thorns that never misses an opportunity to dig into his skin.  Sherwin thinks of what could have happened, but there's always a someday. He'll get there eventually.

 

* * *

 

Sherwin turns thirteen on a cloudless, indigo evening, surrounded by paper streamers, wisps of candle smoke, gooey slices of cake, and gifts. It's a joyful affair that lasts well up until the early hours of mornings; he and a few friends stay up late to gorge themselves on cold pizza and video games, only stopping when Elisha drifts off halfway through a boring cutscene. That's when he calls it a night, yawning as he watches Shin slump onto their crumpled chip bags, the sickly glow of the television rendering the room a weird, alien version of reality.

Sherwin doesn't sleep, though. Instead he sits by the window, gazing out onto the street below.

He's thirteen. Not a kid anymore but a teenager.

It doesn't feel much different from being twelve, but it also does at the same time, and he feels that he's lost an important safeguard, worrying him because should his feelings ever slip out they will no longer be dismissed as confusion but an unnatural choice.

Expired adolescence is absolutely terrifying.

 

* * *

 

Seventh grade begins, and on the first day back, Sherwin's mother drops him off early. Drowsy with sleep, Sherwin shuffles his way to the school grounds, dimly aware of the stuffiness of his collar and the slight pinch of his new uniform. The scent of freshly mown grass hangs in the air like a mild exhale of perfume, and it's really nice so he decides to wait on the bench near the giant oak tree. His friends aren't here yet, and it looks like it will take a while for most of the students to arrive.

Sherwin idly traces the engravings on the weathered wood, chuckling at a sloppy heart containing the words " _Z + K together forever!!!"._ He finds more initials on the bench, and it's actually entertaining to think up of fun backstories for each couple—especially the crossed out ones—that he doesn't immediately notice a shift in the wind and a pair of approaching footsteps.

"Hey, Sherwin, mind if I sit here?" a soft voice asks.

Sherwin nearly topples off the bench. Suddenly, the world takes on a sharper, brighter tint, and his heart kicks into full gear, thumping wildly. _He called me by my name_ , he thinks, dazed. _My name_.

Jonathan is here. And he's looking at Sherwin with that megawatt smile, absolutely melting him. Sherwin tries to say something, but the words lodge in his throat like a sticky swallow of rice. He nods instead, wide-eyed and shy.

Jonathan gives him another smile and sits beside him.

It's getting harder and harder to breathe. Sherwin bunches his hands into his shirt, heat flooding his face. The scenarios crop up in the forefront of his mind, reminding him that he has Jonathan all to himself now so it would be a really good time to talk to him, because who knows when he'll have this kind of opportunity again, surely it won't be tomorrow or the day after that.

Fortunately, Jonathan spares him the ordeal of initiating conversation.

"How was your summer?" he asks.

Miraculously, Sherwin's throat unsticks. "Oh, it - it was good. Really good. Super good," he  stammers out. "A-Although I didn't actually do much. Just the usual stuff. Nothing exciting." He lets out a high, breathy laugh. "How about you? I'm - I'm sure you must've had a better holiday than me. I mean, I spent most of my time cooped up in my house, and - oh gosh, am I talking too much? Sorry, it's just a thing I do—" Sherwin breaks off, flushing a deep red, thinking that this is the part where Jonathan excuses himself, but then—

Jonathan lights up, ocean eyes and all.

The butterflies in his stomach swoon.                                  

"No, it's fine," Jonathan says, smiling, shaking his head. "I didn't really do much either, to be honest."

 _We're talking_ , _we're really talking_. 

"So, whose homeroom do you think you'll be in?" Jonathan asks. "They didn't put it on my schedule. Weird."

_I hope I'm with you._

"I don't know either. Well, it doesn't matter to me," Sherwin says. A half-lie at best.

"Hope we're in the same one."

Sherwin's pulse picks up speed. Did he mishear that? Is he in some sort of trance? The sentence reverberates in his head a million times in the span of a single heartbeat that he's sure he must be dreaming. "Me too," he squeaks, blinking.

Their gazes lock. And just like that an invisible barrier between them has lifted, and Sherwin feels much more at ease around him. They make small talk, Jonathan carrying most of the conversation because Sherwin is still too tongue-tied and he knows that if he tries to say something, he'll end up going on another ramble.

Soon enough the chatter of students permeates the air, and Jonathan takes it as a cue to head back.

"I think we should go in," Jonathan says, rising up from the bench.

Sherwin's gut deflates at the notion. It was going so well. This is the part where they return to their own separate ways, back into their respective social circles. Not quite out of reach, though not touching. Coldness washes over Sherwin as he forces out a nod.

Then, Jonathan does something he doesn't quite expect: he holds out his hand to Sherwin.

"You know, I really enjoyed talking to you," Jonathan says. "I don't know you a whole lot, but I think that it would be real nice to have you as a friend."

Blushing, Sherwin glances at his open hand. Shakes it.

Jonathan's touch is every bit as gentle and warm as he imagined. It sends his heart into another stuttering frenzy, and he thinks of fate, destiny, kismet.

"Friends," he whispers back, and he falls some more for the ocean-eyed boy.

****

* * *

**iii. voice**

 

The hallways are always quiet this time of the day. Come lunch time, and everyone is either out the door or stuffed in the noisy cafeteria—but since Sherwin needs to catch up on some reading for English class, he decides to look for an empty classroom where he won't be disturbed, much to Elisha and Shin's annoyance.

It's been several months since Jonathan officially became his friend, and things have been running smoothly since then. They've been doing some talking here and there, but not a whole lot, because Jonathan is a busy person and has many other friends. He has a hectic schedule ahead of him, what with the number of clubs on his plate, plus a districtwide science fair to prepare for.

(And of course, even if Sherwin doesn't have to long for him from afar anymore, he still kind of stalks him online).

The corridors on the third floor are eerily quiet. And clean; the tiles squeak underfoot. There's been this creepy rumour going around the school, about how if you listen close enough, you might hear the wail of a dead woman, and Sherwin supposes he'll just have to take the risk.

As he walks around, a gentle hum reaches him. Sherwin stops in his tracks. It's strangely familiar; there's a nostalgic quality interwoven into the sound, like it's been around since time immemorial. Hoping that it's not the dead woman or anything, he follows the sound and comes upon a messy classroom in total disarray. Pushed up against one wall are tables scattered with papers, textbooks, and other miscellaneous articles.

At the opposite end of the room, there's a dark-haired person sat cross-legged on the floor, now singing lyrics instead of humming. Sherwin's palms start to sweat.

Jonathan.

Oblivious to another presence at the doorway, the boy of his dreams continues singing, and _wow_ , his voice is _amazing_. It's clear as crystal and bright as the sun, making Sherwin giddy all over but just when he starts to figure out the song the singing stops.

"Uh, hey, Sherwin, what are you doing here?" Jonathan blinks at him, eyebrows raised. A smudge of paint is smeared across his cheek, and he's holding some sort of metal contraption that's jagged at the edges.

Sherwin nearly drops the book he's holding. "Me? Oh, I was just - I was just looking for somewhere quiet to stay," he says in a rush, heat flooding his cheeks. "I see that you're doing something very important, and you probably don't want to be disturbed, so, um, I guess I'll just leave you to it, and—"

"No, it's okay. Sit here," Jonathan says firmly, putting aside the object and patting the spot beside him. "But it's fine if you want to go elsewhere. Hope my singing didn't scare you off." He scratches at his neck, letting out a nervous chuckle.

"Are you kidding me? Your voice is _killer_ ," Sherwin assures him, carefully manoeuvring around the mess to reach the proffered spot.

"You think so?" Jonathan flushes.

Sherwin tries not to linger over the close proximity between them. And how easy it would be to close the gap. "Absolutely." Thankful that he's no longer embarrassingly shy around Jonathan, he nudges the metal contraption. "So, is this is a rocket?"

"Yup. I've been trying to figure out how to make it run, but so far, I have nothing. My group mates haven't had any luck either, so fingers crossed we'll work out a solution before tomorrow."

Sherwin idly loops an auburn curl around his finger. "So, what's the process behind it?"

Jonathan laughs. "I'm afraid that it's boring technical stuff." He glances at the book perched on Sherwin's lap. "Still reading it?" At Sherwin's grimace, Jonathan lightly elbows him in the arm. "Don't worry; the story picks up at the fifth chapter. It's just the first fifty pages that are a real slog to get through."

"You tell me," Sherwin says, rolling his eyes. "The narrator is such a huge bore."

"Huh, I actually kind of like him, warts and all. But then again, maybe it's because I'm a book nerd."

And just like that they fall into conversation, discussing just about every topic under the sun. Jonathan tells him about his home life, about his little sister and the household dog named Dorian, about how his family plans to visit his dad's hometown in Mexico for the holidays. So Sherwin shares with him funny anecdotes, stuff he does with Elisha and Shin, and other little things like that.

Being around Jonathan is nice. Easy. As natural as breathing.

"You know, you didn't finish the song you were singing earlier on," Sherwin says towards the end of lunch period. Wrinkled chocolate bar wrappers and a half-eaten bag of gummy worms sit between them. "I'm curious about it."

Jonathan waves a hand. "It's nothing. Just a Disney song. It got stuck in my head all thanks to my sister. You'll just laugh."

"Try me." Sherwin grins at him.

"It's really embarrassing."

"Even better."

"It's a love song."

Sherwin's heart stutters. "Doesn't matter." It does.

Jonathan lets out a huff. A strand of hair falls over his face. Sherwin resists the urge to tuck it away. "You asked for it." He clears his throat. Then he throws up his hands and says, "I can't do it!"

"Yes, you can." Sherwin's own voice sounds distant to his ears.

Jonathan looks away. Sucks in a deep breath. "Okay, fine." A blush stains his cheeks.

Sherwin waits. When Jonathan finally breaks out the first note, the atmosphere takes on a dreamlike quality. A slant of light crawls over their legs, dust motes swirling in the space, the sight almost like magic— _correction_ , it is, it really is.

" _So this is love ... so this is love_." His voice floats through the air the way a paper boat would sail across a lake—languid and smooth. " _So this is what makes life divine_ ..."

The words fuse into the wild rush roaring in Sherwin's ears.

 _"... my heart has wings ... and I can fly_." Jonathan's cheeks are still stained a dusty pink. His ocean eyes, so full of tenderness and warmth, flit over to Sherwin's face.

Sherwin falls for him. Again.

His heart flutters, growing restless.

It wants to take flight.

 

* * *

**iv. lips**

 

Jonathan has several different smiles, and Sherwin feels that he has memorized every single one. There's the Amused Smile, which is a slight tilt of the mouth, lips parted by an inch. The Pensive Smile is almost exactly the same, except his gaze would be glazed over and eyebrows furrowed. The most frequent smile he's been giving out lately is the Apologetic Smile, reserved for whenever he turns down one of his many admirers, and there are quite a lot of them now.

Sherwin's favourite smile is the Soft Smile—even though it's like a rose. Beautiful to look at, but painful at the same time. It always occurs after the Apologetic Smile, and it heals and hurts at the same time. It heals because it's such a pretty smile, striking him breathless if he imagines that he's the cause of it. It hurts because he knows that there is a reason why Jonathan isn't going out with anyone; there's someone he likes, someone he's holding out for, and Sherwin sees it in the curve of his mouth and the softening of his expression and the way his words clump together when he's wearing that smile.

It hurts because he's liked Jonathan for this long.

Seventh grade passed by rather quickly, and they're in eighth grade now. Sherwin's crush has grown to an almost unbearable level, not helped by the fact that Jonathan grew more handsome over the holidays. Taller, too—now, he's got more than a couple of inches on Sherwin. It's funny what a short amount of time can do and will do.

"Did you see where it fell?" Jonathan asks him, leaning over the fence to stare at the rippling pond below.

They're both standing on a mini bridge that they always pass by on their way home from school—when Jonathan is walking with him, that is, and today happens to be one of those days.

"No, I didn't," Sherwin says, shaking his head. He doesn't even know what the thing is.

A look of distress steals over Jonathan's face. He continues staring at the water, fingers digging sharply into the wooden beam. Sherwin's throat constricts.

 Earlier on, he caught sight of Mariko pressing an unknown object into Jonathan's palm, grinning as she did so, before leaving the school grounds. An important gift of some sort—going by the worry etched along Jonathan's features. He had looked happy to receive it, and there had been the Soft Smile on his face. For a while, Sherwin tried not to think much about Mariko and Jonathan, who have known each other for two years and are _close_ friends. Sherwin knows that Mariko definitely had—has—a crush on him, but until now, he hadn't been sure of Jonathan's feelings on that matter.

It's gotten impossible to ignore. If Jonathan is this affected by losing something of Mariko's, then ...

_He sees it now._

And it hurts.

Jonathan presses his lips together, brow furrowing. His backpack thuds on the floor, the bridge creaking as he jogs over to the edge of the pond, rolling up his sleeves and pants along the way. Despite being numb, Sherwin does the same anyway, shucking off his shoes and saying, "I'm going to help you look for it." Whatever _it_ is. All he knows is that Jonathan pulled the mystery object out and accidentally dropped it as they were crossing the bridge.

Hesitation flickers in Jonathan's face. "You don't have to," he says, biting on the inside of his cheek.

"Four eyes are better than two," Sherwin says, wading into the shallow water. Ice crawls up his legs. "And you still haven't told me what you lost."

A few moments of silence pass before Jonathan answers, a little reluctantly, "A ... necklace." Shyness glazes his expression. A painful twinge erupts in Sherwin's chest. Mariko gave him a necklace. And he accepted it. It was as good as openly reciprocating her feelings.

This is the part where a normal friend would tease him about finally getting together with a girl who has obviously liked him for years. This is the part where a normal friend would clap him on the back and offer pseudo-dating advice, because a normal boy wouldn't have a crush on another boy. A normal boy wouldn't spend spare hours thinking of what it would feel like to hold another guy's hand, of what it would feel like to kiss one.

But Sherwin isn't a normal boy, so instead he nods. Feels his heart shattering inside.

A few minutes of sloshing through the pond later, Jonathan announces, "I found it!" A triumphant grin curls his mouth. A beaded string hangs from his fingers, adorned by a single charm the shape of a—

Heart.                                                                                                         

Sherwin's throat wells up. The iciness of the water starts to freeze his entire body. "Do you like her?" he blurts out, even though he is aware of the answer.

The grin fades from Jonathan's face. Confusion simmers in his eyes—in those damn ocean eyes. "What do you mean?"

"It's Mariko, isn't it?" The words are laced with weariness and defeat and heartbreak.

Before Jonathan can open his mouth to speak, a confession slips through Sherwin's lips. "I like you," he croaks out, voice tearing at the edges. He's throwing all caution to the wind, but he can't find it in himself to stop, to shove down his feelings like he always has, because they're piercing into him like glass shards, bleeding him bone-dry. "I've always liked you. I fell for you the first time I saw you."

Jonathan freezes.

Silence fills the space around them like a fall of silk. The rippling surface of the pond flattens out into a motionless mirror. The water droplets tangled in Jonathan's hair glint, pearlescent in the soft glow of autumn. Rose red burnishes his brown cheeks, and his lips part but not even a whisper slips out. It's unfair that he has to be this handsome even when he's breaking hearts like he always does but never means to.

Jonathan isn't that type of person.

"It's always been you," Sherwin whispers, the ache in his gut expanding.

This should be the part where Jonathan backs away. This should be the part where Jonathan takes off, never once looking back. This should be the part where the sun turns blue, the sky starts weeping, and the ground cleaves open to swallow Sherwin whole.

It should be but it won't be. He won't let it be.

Jonathan stares. The necklace slips off his fingers.

Sherwin runs.

 

* * *

 

His parents are there when he gets home, shoes muddy and chest hollow. His mother rises from her favourite armchair—a striped blue thing fraying at the seams. Concern fills her face as she takes in his disheveled form.

"What's wrong, son?" his father asks, switching off the television.

"Everything," Sherwin murmurs, tired.

And that's when he breaks down, chest heaving, sobs coming out in raw, ragged stretches, tears pooling onto the floor and flooding the entire house.

And that's when he tells them about _everything,_ about how he likes boys and not girls, about how he's kind of sort of in love with his friend, about how he's sorry that he's not normal, about how his friend is probably disgusted with him now, and _please don't hate me, please don't hate me_ —

"Don't think for a second that we could ever hate you," his father says, pulling him in for an embrace.

His mother wraps her arms around him, too. "You are just like everyone else. If your friend can't accept that, he's the problem and not you. Never you," she murmurs into his hair, pressing a kiss to his temple. "You're our son and we love you very much, no matter who or what you are."

Eventually, the crying ceases, and Sherwin feels that he's five again, tucked in the warm harbour of his parent's embrace, safe from the outside world, and " _We love you very much_ " is the last thing on his mind before he drifts off, shell-less and hurting inside.

 

* * *

  **v. heart  
**

 

It's raining outside. Sherwin squints through the heavy downpour, deflating inwardly at the thought of having to walk home in this weather; his mom's shift at work won't end until late at night, and his dad is presenting at a lecture hall two hours away. He can't get rides from Shin or Elisha, because they're both staying behind for volleyball practice.

Sherwin sighs. He'll have to brave the rain soon enough, whether he likes it or not. He shrugs off his backpack and plunges his arm inside it, searching for his umbrella. His fingers come across pencils, bits of paper, textbooks, but no umbrella. How could he have forgotten to bring one? Coming up empty, he lets out another sigh and presses his cheek against the door window. The action fogs up the glass. Sherwin idly traces patterns onto it, pondering over the fact that he'll be stuck here for god knows how long, and then he stops his finger when Jonathan's name starts to emerge.

At this, Sherwin's stomach twists. He swipes the fog clear and lets his hand fall to his side, clenched in a fist.

It's been two days since the confession, and Sherwin has done all that he can to avoid Jonathan. It's surprisingly easier than he thought it would be, considering they share two classes together and a spare. Plus, Jonathan hasn't tried to reach out, so there's that. Sherwin's sure he probably put off Jonathan forever, and it hurts like hell, but—

Maybe it's better off this way. Unsticking his cheek from the window, he makes a decision to look for someone with a spare umbrella when a hand falls on his shoulder.

"Hey."

Sherwin's lungs shrivel up. The urge to run away strikes him, but the moment his gaze meets Jonathan's, his resolve disintegrates into dust, heart racing up to the speed of light.

"Hi," Sherwin manages.

The boy of his dreams is staring at him with an unfathomable emotion stamped across his features. "Can I walk you home?" he asks quietly.

Hope flares in Sherwin's chest, but he wills it away. He nearly says "no", but when Jonathan gives him a small smile, it strikes him that he could never refuse Jonathan, not with those pretty eyes and megawatt smile of his. Besides, he must have something to say. Sherwin should at least hear him out.

"I don't have an umbrella," he mumbles, picking at a loose thread on his sweater.

"We can share," Jonathan offers, holding up one.

Sherwin's breath hitches in his throat. He nods, blushing. Jonathan pushes open the door, and a wet squall of air catches them in the face. The umbrella unfurls in a radial sweep, stretching out over their heads.

"You can hold it, too, if you want." Jonathan holds out the handle to him.

It suddenly occurs to Sherwin that the umbrella isn't very big, so they'll probably have to stick close to avoid getting soaked. Sherwin blinks and wraps his hand around the handle. His skin grazes Jonathan's for the briefest millisecond, but it's enough to send a line of fire searing up his arm.

He  swallows, grip on the umbrella tightening.

The two of them begin their walk in silence, accompanied by the loud drum of the rain. A cacophony of thoughts swirls in Sherwin's brain. There are so many things he wants to say yet can't. He peeks at Jonathan using his peripheral vision. His mouth is pressed in a tight line, eyes focused on the road up ahead. The streetlights and the neon glare of a nearby convenience store cast iridescent swirls onto the puddles beneath their shoes.

For a moment, it feels as if Sherwin has entered a trancelike state, and that if he breathes in the wrong direction the illusion will shatter and he'll be back at school. But when Jonathan's elbow bumps against his, he's reminded that this scenario is in fact very real and not some figment of his imagination. He's not sure whether to be relieved or not.

By the time they arrive at the bridge, the downpour has calmed down to a gentle patter. The skies lighten, and the sun grows wider. Jonathan halts. The world inhales.

"I've been thinking about you for the past couple days," he says, breaking the silence. Drizzle falls around them, _drop drop drop_. "About what you said to me." Jonathan's gaze lifts up to meet his.

This is the part where he says he's sorry because he's with Mariko now. This is the part where he says he doesn't like him in that way _but they can still be friends, right_? This is the part where Sherwin grits his teeth, nods, fakes a smile, and then they'll be off on their separate ways, because that's how the story always goes, _boy meets boy, boy likes boy, boy gets rejected by boy_ , and he's lucky it will end with only an apology, and not broken bones.

A lump forms in Sherwin's throat as his grip on the umbrella slackens.

"You know," Jonathan continues, ocean eyes wavering, "the necklace doesn't belong to Mariko. It belongs to me."

_Boy meets boy._

"I just showed it to her. She didn't give it to me, I'm not planning to give it to her, because it's for someone else. She doesn't even _like_ me in that way anymore."

_Boy likes boy._

" _Sherwin_." Jonathan speaks his name softly, gently, quietly. The skies lighten some more. There are raindrops lining Jonathan's eyelashes, and they're glistening like crushed diamonds, and it's unfair that he's still so pretty even when Sherwin's aching inside, waiting for _boy gets rejected by boy_ , because it's inevitable, that's how the story always goes—

"It's always been you."

The world exhales. A dizzying sensation creeps up over Sherwin as he tries to reconcile Jonathan's words with reality, and he's terrified, absolutely terrified that in the next second Jonathan will say that they're just a joke, that he's not serious. But hope blooms in his chest once more, and for this moment, it's enough to drown out his fears and allow himself to believe that this boy reciprocates his feelings, that he's always liked him back.

"You really mean it?" Sherwin breathes out, but this time, he knows the right answer.

Jonathan would never hurt him. He's never been that type of person.

"I mean it," Jonathan says. His mouth curves into Sherwin's favourite smile, ocean eyes softening, shyness settling on his face, and Sherwin is struck with the realization that this smile has always been meant for him.

Warmth fills him up from head to toe, and his heart thuds wildly, unrestrained. The boy of his dreams likes him back, and he never once thought that it would actually happen, but it did, and he wants to lock this moment in a forever, because Jonathan's words are the sweetest song he's ever tasted, and the sheer euphoria coursing through his veins is the most exhilarating feeling he's ever experienced.

Sherwin's lips part. Jonathan leans in.

Close. So close. Jonathan's face is only five inches away from him.

Sherwin holds in a breath.

_Three inches._

Jonathan's eyes are an even richer shade of blue up close, flecked with indigo.

_One inch._

Sherwin's eyes flutter shut.

_No space._

Jonathan's lips graze his own ones. Sherwin's whole face burns, and the feelings in his stomach intensify a hundredfold.

The kiss lasts for a total of two seconds—but it might as well be an infinity.

"This is for you," Jonathan whispers, holding out the necklace.

The heart charm dangles in the air, glinting. An inexorable smile blooms on Sherwin's face, and he takes the necklace, his own heart growing larger than Jupiter.

Now, it's the size of the entire solar system.

 

**Author's Note:**

> in a heartbeat warmed up my cold, dead existence so as a token of my gratitude i wrote this. also, this was supposed to be like 1k but my hand slipped so yeah *laughs nervously*.
> 
> game over,  
> elle


End file.
